Curiosity
by Tia Paes
Summary: Haddock knows next to nothing about Tintin's life. One shot.


**Curiosity**

**Summary:** Haddock knows next to nothing about Tintin's life.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything relating to Tintin.

**AN:** I really love Tintin and it makes me sad to see how little fandom there is surrounding it. I've always been really curious about Tintin's past so this story is just about trying to satisfy that curiosity! Hope you guys like this and please let me know whether it was alright or not. I'd love to write more about Tintin so I guess I'm just testing the waters as of yet! Feel free to take this anyway that you would like. I wrote it as platonic but they are so easy to slash so if your goggles are on, go crazy!

~**TT**~

He's not drunk all the time and sometimes, he notices thing.

He's not sober either, more of a balanced line of not quite sober and not quite drunk. He's been in that mind-set for so long that he doesn't know how to be sober. And why would he want to be? The liquor gives him strength and courage and keeps him from tripping over his exhausted feet or clawing at his stomach when multiple meals have been missed because of a dangerous situation. It helps him to forget things as well, things like being kidnapped or being forced onto the side of a plane so that it doesn't crash.

It makes him hyper aware and more so then anything, it's Tintin that captures his attention. He's not sure why he's perpetually included in his adventures, or why he constantly risks his neck for someone who should have kept their nose out of trouble. But he does and he probably always will.

It's strange though, to consider how little he knows of the boy he calls his friend. He doesn't even know if he's calling Tintin by his first or last name, nor if he has a family to think of when they're travelling to and fro. He's spilled his guts about himself so many times that its nearly frustrating to have nothing but a sympathetic smile grace the other persons face or a kind word.

So he watches the boy and tries to use the same skills Tintin does to work out who he is.

"It's a lovely day today," said Tintin as they strolled through the park.

"Some rum would make it better."

He heard the boy sigh, "I thought you were going to give up liquor? For good, this time."

"It's not as simple as that. Wish it was."

There was a slight pause, as Tintin frowned slightly, obviously not wanting to pursue the pitiful excuse he had provided.

"Look at the swans," Tintin said eventually, as he pointed over to the lake. Evidently he was tired of arguing the issue, both of them knew that it was a lost cause for him to give up rum. "I wonder where they flew from. I haven't seen a swan in these parts for years."

Haddock looked over at the lake, noticing a young couple by the water-side. A young boy, with sandy blonde hair was kneeling down over a small sail boat. A woman was standing behind the boy, as a man carefully pushed the boat out to the middle of the lake. It was a very domestic scene, one that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to play a part in with his own family. He wondered if Tintin had ever played with his dad by a lake, whether he had even met his parents.

"I wonder if we'll get a new case soon. I always get so restless on holidays."

"Don't be wishing for that too soon. There's always plenty of danger to find so just enjoy the break while you can."

Tintin smiled, sitting down at one of the wooden benches lining the edge of the lake, "It always used to be so boring in between cases. Snowy is great but I can't exactly have a conversation with him."

Snowy whined pitifully beneath the bench, as if he had heard the conversation they were having. Sometimes he wondered if the dog was a genius, he had never seen such an intelligent canine before.

"You could always visit your family?" He knew he could have inserted the question stealthier but he was interested in the boys reaction.

Tintin simply looked down at the ground, a contemplative expression falling over his face as fiddled with the clasp on his watch. He knew by that look that his past wasn't a happy one, he had used the same expression for twenty years at the mention of his own family. Waiting for an answer, he leaned back into the wooden bench, still watching the boy.

"We don't," said Tintin carefully, "… really talk."

"Nothing a visit wouldn't fix?"

The boy didn't answer but instead pursed his lips as he got up from the bench. Haddock cocked an eyebrow, watching as the boy rolled up his sleeves before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "How about we get something to eat?"

Haddock sighed. He knew that he would not be getting any more information out of the boy. It was enough to know that he didn't have a good relationship with his family and there was no use upsetting him out of curiosity.

~**TT**~

"Blistering barnacles," said Haddock as he slammed the telephone back into its holder.

He had always known that the boy would get himself into serious trouble. It was only a matter of time before a bullet found its mark or a well place thrust broke his skin. He knew he should have came with him but he had been tired, exhausted and overall just in need of some sleep.

Grabbing his coat, he slammed the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it but just hoping that his landlady saw him rushing and thought to do so herself. Sprinting to the curb, he hailed the first taxi he could find.

"St Paul's Hospital and drive as fast as you can."

The taxi driver grunted as he sped off into the traffic, turning corners sharply and making Haddock nervous for his own bodily safety.

"Gonna cost you extra to keep up this pace," said the taxi driver as he sharply turned another corner.

Haddock pulled out his wallet, "I don't care, just get me there fast."

"Someone hurt?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road."

Eventually, the white building of the hospital came into view, the chapel next to it silhouetting its form like an ominous cloud. He wasn't a praying man but he found himself hoping that some of the good will of the church would be on his side today. As the taxi halted treacherously on the curb, Haddock pulled out a wad of bills, not even worrying about how much he was throwing at the driver. Jumping out, he nearly sprinted into the lobby, stopping suddenly at reception.

"I'm here for Tintin."

The nurse flipped through a large record keeping book, frowning. "Oh yes, room 201B. You're his emergency contact. Mr Haddock?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Just make your way upstairs to the room. The doctors will let you know of his condition."

Speeding up the nearest flight of stairs, Haddock thought for a moment about what the nurse had said. Emergency contact? Out of everyone in Tintin's life that would be more then happy to help him out, he had listed himself as the emergency contact. He wondered if any family members even knew that anything had happened, whether he would find a weeping woman inside the room, next to her son or brother. It didn't seem likely. His name on the form implied something about his past that the boy wouldn't have given up willingly. Either his family really was dead or they might as well have been, for all that they cared about the boy. A surge of protectiveness welled up within him at the thought of no one even caring about Tintin's safety.

What had Tintin done before he was in his life? Who had waited by his bedside for him to awaken?

Outside of the hospital room, he saw Thomson and Thompson sitting. Their usually optimistic round faces frowning in the bright lights of the corridor.

"Captain Haddock. So good of you to come!" Said one, although Haddock had never really been able to figure out who was who.

"What did you yellow-belly good for nothing sods let Tintin get himself into this time?" Said Haddock, his fury suddenly rising.

"Now, now, Haddock. This is not the time for bickering. Tintin is in a serious condition," the one speaking cleared his throat uncomfortably, as the other one continued, "We got a tip about an underground group in London who had been making off with some pretty valuable items. Tintin went down to investigate and the group didn't react so well. The police came just as the standoff was occurring. Tintin was bluffing and the ruffian thought if they both shot each other, at least he wouldn't have to go to prison. When he shot Tintin and realised he was going to prison, he cooperated immediately. Unfortunately, Tintin had been shot in the chest. The last the doctor told us, he was through the worst of it."

"Ten thousand typhoons, that's a story. Where's Snowy?"

"We've got him in the car, he'll stay with me tonight. Perhaps tomorrow night you could take him?"

He nodded, "Can I see Tintin?"

One of the men nodded, nodding towards a closed door beside them, "He's asleep now."

Haddock turned to the door, feeling suddenly nervous as his hand closed around the wooden handle of the hospital door and swung it open quietly. The distant sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor as the two men left for home.

Sure enough, Tintin was asleep in a large bed, wires hooked up to him as he slept. Moving closer, he noticed no one else in the room, so he sat down in an empty chair next to the bed. The boy looked tired, like he had just fought the biggest fight of his life. His skin was unhealthily pale and his breath was catching as he breathed in and out. Hospital pyjamas were covering the bandages but the drawn look on the boys face was enough of an indication of how serious the wound was. He didn't know how long he sat there, just staring at the boy who had turned his life upside down. He felt like the only person in the world, except Snowy, who was only concerned about his safety. It seemed that everyone else was worried for different reasons, for an unfinished story, for the loss of a man who did his own investigating. He thought again about the lack of family, about who could be so heartless as to miss something like this?

A sound broke his train of thought and he watched as Tintin's eyelids moved and his forehead scrunched up in pain. Blue eyes appeared as the boy blinked wearily and looked around, "C-captain?"

He smiled reassuringly, before frowning at the way the boy scrunched his eyes up again. "Tintin, how are you feeling?"

The boy stammered out, "I-I…" before clutching at his chest. He could see that the boy was trying to control himself the best that he could but he could see a thin line of liquid escape his eyes and roll down his face.

"Just breath in and out, lad," he said reassuringly, actually pleased to see the boy awake and reacting to pain, instead of comatose.

Tintin took a deep breath, before shakily releasing it again. "W-what happened?"

"You were shot…"

The boy closed his eyes, wincing again as he said, "S-sorry captain."

Haddock frowned in confusion, "About what, boy?"

"It's… it's not very brave of me to be so… so…," the boy trailed off uncertainly, his eyes showing how ashamed he was of losing control.

"Nonsense. I've seen tougher men cry from breaking a toe, let alone being shot in the chest."

A shaky smile met his statement and he watched as Tintin closed his eyes again and leaned back, "Where… is Snowy?"

"Safe. At one of the Thomson's houses, damned if I know which one."

A genuine smile turned the corners of the boys mouth, which made Haddock feel satisfied in a selfish way. It was only after he watched the boy drift back into another uncomfortable sleep that he realised, it had been hours since his last drink. He grabbed the boys hand, squeezing it gently, reminding himself that sometimes, things are more important then rum. He wanted to know about why no one was at his bedside but he couldn't cope with the idea of inflicting more pain on the boy when he was already going through so much.

Whoever had given up on him as their son had really missed out.

~**TT**~

"Okay, I should be back in an hour or so. I wish hospitals allowed dogs inside."

Haddock sighed as he patted Snowy on the head. The dog nudged his hand affectionately, before scooting in between his legs towards the wall to sniff at something curious beside the table. "I do to, Tintin. Just make sure you don't get yourself into any danger."

The boy smiled, "I'll only be gone for a little while. Take care of him for me!"

"Will do," said Haddock as Tintin patted Snowy again and then closed the door to the room. He could hear the boys footsteps down the stairs as he went off to his appointment. Snowy wined pitifully, scratching at the door with his paws before bounding over the window and perching himself again the sill.

"He'll be back soon enough," he said, sighing again. He'd been inside Tintin's apartment plenty of times before but he hadn't ever been alone. It felt strange, to see little reminders of the lad around the room. A newspaper clipping, a book on Africa or the coordinates to some unknown destination.

Spotting the door to the study, he let himself in gently, aware that he probably wasn't meant to be in the room. It was Tintin's personal space, after all. He grinned at the framed articles on the wall and the typewriter which was smeared with ink and covered in hand written notes that had been scrawled and scratched on. A large bookcase lined the walls and he peered at the books curiously.

A small collection of books caught his attention. Every other book had its spine lined with the heading and writer, except the small collection he had spotted. He pulled a smaller one out of its nook, flicking to the first page and smiling at the sight which met him. A hand drawn figure, most likely scribbled by a very small child, filled the page. Bright colours assaulted his eyes and he peered at the drawing closer. His smile faded at the sight of a circular face with a sad face drawn in it, the scribbles of Snowy as a puppy beside a stick-figure boy with orange hair. He wondered what had made Tintin sad as a boy, sad enough to draw it and profound enough that he would keep the drawing how ever many years after.

Curiosity peaked, he put the book back, choosing a larger one beside it and flicking to a random page. He knew that what he was doing was a complete violation of trust but his need to discover more about the boy was becoming insatiable and he knew if he could just satiate it, he would be able to go back to his normal life. Starting to read from the middle of the page, he frowned:

_As soon as I have enough money, I'm going and I'm never coming back. I'm going to turn up at the paper I've been anonymously writing to and ask for a job. If they don't give me one, I'll apply to every place in town. If that doesn't work… it's still better than living here._

Turning a few more pages, he stopped and read again:

_If I ever become a reporter, I'll make sure to help out whoever I can. Maybe I can help out kids like me. I can't wait to get away from here, I'm so close. _

He flipped a page again:

_I don't understand why they hate me so much? I don't understand. _

Feeling suddenly very wrong about what he was doing, Haddock closed the book firmly, sliding it back into the same place it had been and taking a deep breath. He had always guessed that the boy had a troubled childhood and that he had been living alone for a long time. It was hard to associate the sad writings of the journals with the hopeful lad who had just left the apartment. He knew that there was a passion in Tintin's motives that wasn't entirely fuelled by his need to find out clues and work out solutions.

Feeling something against his leg, he looked down at Snowy, who was wagging his tail happily up at him. He kneeled down, patting the top of the dogs head and scratching behind his ears.

"You're right, Snowy. This is none of my blasted business."

Closing the door to the study firmly, he grabbed the paper from its position on the couch, flicking through it apathetically.

He felt as if his quest to discover more about Tintin had ended with a revelation about the boy. Everything about his past could be seen in the way he acted, in his passion for the job, his need to write and share information and his love for his dog. There was nothing about his past that needed to be found out through immoral ways, no matter how curious he was. If Tintin wanted to share it, then he would listen but he wouldn't pester him any longer about an issue that was irrelevant to his friendship.

The sound of footsteps startled him and the door swung open after a moment of key jingling. Snowy sprinted to the door, jumping at Tintin as the boy knelt down and scratched him delightedly behind the ears and scratched his belly.

"That was quick," he said, thankful that he had removed himself from the study early.

"I'm healing well, the doctors said. They just gave me a change of bandages and sent me on my way. Good news I guess," said the boy as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it up with water. Haddock looked down at the table, noticing a letter from Interpol. The sight of it made him angry as it was most likely another case that the organisation was forcing on the boy. The boy needed a break and god knew that he wouldn't be making time for himself anytime soon.

Thinking for a moment, Haddock tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, "How do you feel about a trip?"

The boy stopped drinking in shock, "A trip?"

"I haven't been on the sea for years and you need a break."

"I would- I mean… yes!"

"I haven't been to Portugal for a bit."

The book smiled delightedly before squinting suspiciously, "Wait. What is this all about?"

He grunted, "When was the last time you went on a holiday?"

The boy thought for a moment, "Well… never, I guess. I've been away on missions to other countries but never on holiday."

"And I'm sick of these big wigs making us run around the place or having us turn up on some blasted adventure and only just escaping with our lives."

"You're right," said Tintin a vindicate that only comes from being shot in the chest on a mission, "We could use a vacation."

He jumped up from his chair and Snowy barked in surprise, "Well, what are you waiting for, Tintin! Get packing!"

The boy smiled delightedly, before draining his cup and heading to his bedroom to pack. Haddock grinned, pleased with himself. It was about time that the boy got a gift without some dangerous or horrible string attached.

"Captain?" Came from the other room as Tintin peered out around the door.

"What?"

"Thanks," Tintin said.

"For what, lad?"

The boy looked uncertain for a moment, before saying hesitantly, "For being a good friend."

Haddock smiled back, glad to see something other then a frown on Tintin's face. Even if the boy didn't have a happy past, the least he could do was ensure that he had a happy future.

~**TT**~

**AN:** Hope you liked it! I have noticed that not many fics seem to focus on character development, which makes me sad because I love reading fics about that. I hope that more is written, what with the movie being released. Tintin is such an awesome character and i really want to read more about him! Hope that you liked this and please leave a review or a comment on how you received it!


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